


Pancakes -- A Love Song

by thatsrightdollface



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bands, Alternate Universe - Restaurant, Fluff, Love Confessions, M/M, Shuichi works at a restaurant, good luck everybody, happy super late birthday Kokichi!!!!, well... Kokichi's in a clown-themed band
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2019-08-24
Packaged: 2020-09-25 21:49:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20378656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatsrightdollface/pseuds/thatsrightdollface
Summary: Seems like D.I.C.E.’s lead singer really likes messing with Shuichi Saihara!  It was a little mean of him to lie about writing a love song for him, though.That is…  If Kokichi WAS lying, right?





	Pancakes -- A Love Song

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jericho_Pryce](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jericho_Pryce/gifts).

> Hi there!!! I hope you enjoy this story if you end up reading it~ I'm sorry for any and all mistakes I might've made.
> 
> This was originally started way back in June for Kokichi’s birthday -- I’ve been poking at it forever, though, so... Mmm... I've finally decided to just post it. Way back when, I asked Jericho what I should write about and he basically spelled this situation out for me. So it’s gifted to him, too!!! Thank you, Jericho <3
> 
> Have a great day!!! >:D

1.

D.I.C.E. was the kind of band with gaudy costumes — you know, jester masks and fake blood, juggling fire up on stage, all sorts of unconventional things. Their lyrics were usually pretty vague and outrageous, too... Shuichi Saihara saw people debating what they meant by one over-the-top line or another online all the time. Maybe that kind of thing was to be expected: D.I.C.E.’s leader, Kokichi Oma, _had_ teased certain interviewers until they chased him off the stage. Kokichi was chaos bundled up into a sunny smile and flippy purple hair.

Songs like “Grape Soda” might have been about slitting throats as some sort of terrifying mob boss, for instance, but then again could’ve _also_ been about spraying people with shaken-up Panta cans and/or making some sort of point about the nature of authority. Songs like “Rock, Paper, Scissors” could have been about taunting some poor guy with death threats, but might’ve also been a declaration of love. Shuichi would have been lying if he said he understood all D.I.C.E.’s goals and lyrics completely. But even so... 

But even so, Shuichi had gotten some opportunity to ask about Kokichi’s lyrics, every now and then. Whether anyone online would believe him barely mattered — it was all completely true. It generally happened when the whole band came into the breakfast food chain restaurant where Shuichi worked. Now, this was a simple, unassuming restaurant, mind you, with scuffed tables and a ton of syrup flavors for pancakes. It definitely wasn’t the sort of place where people normally expected to see a group of musician-clowns decked out in masks and performance straitjackets troop on in.

And yet, D.I.C.E. had been doing just that for a while now. How they managed to appear without huddled groupies around or anything was a complete mystery to Shuichi. Sure, Kokichi or one of his bandmates signed a napkin for somebody every now and then, but otherwise... Huh. They came in, and they chatted among themselves, and they always tipped very well. Maybe it was to make up for the crusted silly string and special effect makeup left smeared on the booths.

Lately, Kokichi had been waving enthusiastically to Shuichi when he showed up, too... And, when the restaurant got quiet, sometimes he even tried to talk to him. Nobody had to believe it. Sometimes Shuichi barely accepted that it was happening, himself.

It had started with a simple “Hey! Mr. Favorite Waiter!” and evolved into things like, “Taking any new clients today, Mr. Future Detective?” because Shuichi was studying criminal justice so he could feel just a little bit better equipped to take over his uncle’s defective office. It was funny that Kokichi knew that, wasn’t it? It was funny that Kokichi had asked, swinging his legs under the booth and sipping on an enormous soda that probably didn’t pair well with his chocolate chip pancakes. 

For his part, Shuichi had found himself learning a lot about which comic books Kokichi was reading lately, and he sometimes had to play cards with the band before he was officially allowed to take their order. Stuff like that, generally, except for that time when he’d found himself collapsed in the booth across from Kokichi when school wasn’t going well, though that had been a strange, exhausted night and thinking about it still made Shuichi’s neck and cheeks burn.

Shuichi’d slumped forward, head in his arms, and Kokichi had patted his shoulder with a hand all decorated with glittery dice-themed jewelry, still splattered with fake blood. Kokichi’d murmured, “It’ll be okay. You say the word and I’ll shoot all mention of your dumb college into space for ya.”

“Of course you will,” Shuichi had murmured down into his sleeve. He hadn’t meant to confide in Kokichi — D.I.C.E.’s own Kokichi Oma, of all people — and yet here they were. That night, Shuichi was working the latest shift there was. The restaurant was nearly empty, and he had piles of case files his uncle wanted him to look over mixed in with homework in the back. It’d just sort of happened this way.

“You don’t think my secret evil organization can do it? Rude, Shuichi! Rude,” Kokichi had scolded, next. The false-bafflement in his voice had been enough to make Shuichi laugh, just a little. He hadn’t really thought laughter like that was possible, about then, had he? But, there you go. It was possible all the same. Kokichi instructed Shuichi to take his nametag off and declared that, hey, looks like he wasn’t at work anymore! Now, spill. Tell the infamous Lord of D.I.C.E. what’s on your pretty little mind. 

So... Mm. You could say Shuichi had some behind-the-scenes information, if you wanted to? When Shuichi said he was shocked to learn Kokichi didn’t mind letting the whole crowd spray him with Silly String, Kokichi’d snickered. Twirled his hair, watching Shuichi’s face carefully. When Shuichi said that “Rock, Paper, Scissors” was his favorite D.I.C.E. song so far, Kokichi’d said, “Hm, I wonder if it was about _you_, Shuichi! Would you believe me if I said it was?”

“I... Probably not, honestly,” Shuichi had answered.

Kokichi slipped his clown mask off the smeared napkin holder where he’d propped it up, around then, and slid it over his face. Hiding his expression. “Oh really?” he’d said. “I guess that’s probably for the best. I _am_ a liar, after all.” 

And that was it, right there. That was one of the only consistent things Kokichi said in interviews: he was a liar. 

Shuichi reminded himself of that fact a lot, nowadays, trying to believe he wasn’t actually hoping “Rock, Paper, Scissors” could be about him after all. It’s possible if Shuichi asked what that song was about outright, Kokichi’d toss him a dozen different answers. He’d done that when Shuichi asked after any special meaning behind “King Horse” and “Let’s Have Fun With This,” after all. The answers were always changing. 

So Shuichi probably didn’t _need_ to know what anything Kokichi Oma did meant, did he? He probably didn’t want a love song, anyway, especially the kind that came stirred in with lots of playful half-threats and game analogies. 

... Now look who’s the liar, am I right? 

2.

Shuichi had come into his shift that day sort of expecting D.I.C.E. to show up after their concert. It’d been a while since they’d played in town, actually — things had to be really picking up for them. Shuichi was proud... Though it wasn’t any kind of accomplishment of his own, obviously, and in a few years Kokichi probably wouldn’t even remember his name. 

All the same, though. Shuichi wished this faux-clown crime leader and his faux-clown henchmen all the best. And hey, D.I.C.E.’d just recently appeared on Tsumugi Shirogane’s morbid game show, so that had to mean they were a well-known enough band. For her to go out of her way to book them like that, and all. 

When Shuichi learned that Kokichi would be coming around again, he’d seriously considered buying tickets to D.I.C.E.’s concert. It would’ve been his first time turning up to one, actually, though definitely not his first time haunting the ticket-buying website... Hovering his mouse over the checkout option, debating whether to ask his friend Kaede if she’d be willing to come along with him. You know. For moral support. Kaede mostly dealt with piano concerts — and she was mostly the one performing, wearing very nice silky dresses and crystalline music note pins in her hair — but her confidence and enthusiasm could be so infectious. It was hard to shake the feeling she’d know what to do, what to say, where to stand, all that. 

Shuichi had been _scheduled_, though, during the concert. And yes, he could’ve asked off, probably, but it was always possible he wouldn’t actually work up the nerve to look for Kokichi after D.I.C.E. was finished performing. Maybe he’d drag Kaede back to the car, or something, no matter how she tsk-ed and shook her head at him. And then maybe Kokichi’d swing by Shuichi’s work — by the restaurant — like normal, and find that the server he liked to mess with had asked for the night off. No big deal. It might not have mattered to him. But then again... Maybe it would have. 

And so Shuichi tried not to look at his hair in windows he passed on his way into work — in case he didn’t like how it was falling and he’d have to worry about it. And so Shuichi had been working on emotionally preparing himself to see Kokichi Oma near the end of the night. When had he let himself start caring like this? Stupid. 

It didn’t go the way Shuichi expected, though, of course. Maybe he should’ve known not to get too comfortable. If Kokichi was anything it was unpredictable, right? Or at least, that was what he wanted people to believe. 

When Shuichi got into work, he had barely tied on his uniform apron and thrown his stuff in his locker when the shift manager pulled him aside and said there was a customer asking about him. That could’ve meant anything, of course... In fact, when Shuichi scanned the booths to look for someone he knew, he almost didn’t recognize Kokichi at all. Without his costumes, without his makeup or fake blood or any of it. 

Kokichi’s hair was pulled back, tucked under a hood. He had wheedled a few pieces loose and was fiddling with them restlessly. He was almost finished with a soda, too, and had headphones in. It was sort of surreal, seeing him quiet and alone instead of surrounded by his band. Watching him kick his feet against the table legs... Seeing what he wore out into the world when he wanted to blend in. Black jeans and slip-on purple shoes. A cartoon character on his hoodie. He was just a guy, in the end. No matter how maniacally he played a supervillain up on stage. 

When he saw Shuichi, Kokichi sat up a little straighter. Grinned. He announced, “Wow, you’re so late today, huh? I should alert your manager.” 

“My shift hasn’t even started yet, Kokichi,” Shuichi snickered. “Good luck.”

Shuichi stood poised and ready to take Kokichi’s order, then... But Kokichi said he’d already asked for what they needed. He said it that way, too — what they needed, like that meant himself and Shuichi both. He patted the table across from him and Shuichi glanced over to check the clock before taking a seat. He had a little time.

Kokichi folded his hands in front of him on the table and asked about Shuichi’s day. Shuichi told him, and asked about Kokichi’s flight back into the city. Kokichi offered him a few snappy, probably-fake airplane related anecdotes... And then laughed, saying he’d pretty much slept the whole flight, except for when somebody handed out pretzels. That might’ve been a lie, too, though. It was up to Shuichi to pick his favorite truth. 

Eventually, Shuichi pointed out that he would have to get back to work, soon, and asked what exactly was going on here. Kokichi beamed, then.

“I was beginning to think your curiosity had shriveled up and died!” Kokichi said. “Had me worried, there. Alrighty. I’ve got a gift for you!” 

Kokichi passed Shuichi his headphones, then. He tapped around on his phone a little bit, and a song started up, playful and meandering. It was D.I.C.E. — Shuichi knew their sound well enough by now — but this was something new. This wasn’t on the internet yet, Shuichi could tell that much. Kokichi’s voice sounded softer here than normal, sometimes — but then _even more_ slick and cackling when he came around to the choruses. The song seemed like it was about feeling misunderstood, at first. About having told so many lies that nobody could tell when he meant something anymore. And then it seemed like it was about trying to make a pancake order and it not coming through, somehow. And then... Well... By the end, it became pretty clear this was a love song. 

Kokichi flipped his phone around to show Shuichi the song title, not meeting his eyes. _“Would You Believe Me Now, If I Said This Was for You?”_ That was the song’s name. It took the words a minute to scroll their way completely across the little screen. 

Outside, the sunset reflected orange and sharp against parked car windows; throughout the rest of the restaurant, Shuichi’s coworkers were whispering to each other and smiling as if they were in on a secret. Glancing over at him, like they’d known this was coming all along.

When the song finished, Kokichi snatched his headphones back and said, “We were gonna call it ‘Pancakes,’ but then... You can be sort of slow sometimes, you know that?” 

Shuichi was still turning the song’s lyrics around in his mind, but he shook his head, a little. He was going to ask “Why?” but hadn’t the answer just been spelled out in the song, already? So he said, “Thank you,” instead, and... Very quietly... “I wish I had a song for you, too. Or even just _something_.”

“Eh. You can help me write the next one,” Kokichi said. Maybe it was Shuichi’s imagination, but he thought the Supreme Leader of D.I.C.E.’s voice might have shaken a little there. 

If someone had asked Shuichi about it earlier that day, he would’ve thought Kokichi was teasing him. Now, though...

When Kokichi’s takeaway order arrived, Shuichi stood up and brushed himself off, ready to apologize to his supervisor. Ready to get back to work. He didn’t realize yet that there was food wrapped up in those takeaway bags for him, too. That asking for _what they needed_ could have easily involved Kokichi cozying up to the right people, working to get Shuichi’s shifts juggled around a little bit if Shuichi himself wanted them to be. If he wanted to eat with D.I.C.E. for a change, backstage and before any of the uncomfortable crowds showed up. And then... Afterwards... If he’d want to stick around, or make plans to meet up later, or —

Well. 

Shuichi would figure it out soon enough.


End file.
